


Ave Maria

by sophie_448



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sibling Incest, extremely improper use of a rosary, flagrant abuse of Catolic prayer traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-20
Updated: 2007-10-20
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/pseuds/sophie_448
Summary: John finds out about Sam and Dean’s relationship.  He says some things that hurt Dean and Sam has to fix it.





	Ave Maria

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, for such a short story I have put a huge amount of effort into this. It all started with [this](http://community.livejournal.com/spnstoryfinders/893778.html) request for rosary!porn from [](https://sadelyrate.livejournal.com/profile)[sadelyrate](https://sadelyrate.livejournal.com/). It got into my brain and wouldn’t leave! Many thanks to [](https://shadowc44.livejournal.com/profile)[shadowc44](https://shadowc44.livejournal.com/) for the excellent beta. She really helped me whip this into shape. 
> 
> Yes, I did appropriate the text of "Ave Maria" and alter it for my own nefarious purposes. Apologies if any of my Latin is wrong, it’s been awhile, but I tried. The original with translation can be found [here](http://wikisource.org/wiki/Hail_Mary).

John Winchester’s final words to his sons seemed to echo in the stale air of the motel room even though he’d slammed the door behind him with a very final crash hours before.

“You are sick and twisted and no children of mine. If your mother were alive to see what you’ve become, she would be so ashamed.”

Dean was curled in on himself in a corner of the room. John had caught him with a rage-fueled right hook and when he’d fallen, he’d stayed down. He stared straight ahead, seemingly catatonic. Sam had been worried when he didn’t move after John left. Now he was panicked, bordering on hysterical.

“Please, Dean, you’ve got to answer me. Let me know you’re still in there, okay? Can you even just look at me?”

His voice was slightly high-pitched with fear and the pleading tone seemed to trigger the “take care of Sammy” response in Dean. His eyes finally flicked dully to meet Sam’s. They were pain-darkened and Sam winced in sympathy at what he read there. He moved a hand up towards the side of Dean’s face, intending to offer a comforting caress, but Dean flinched away.

“He said she’d be ashamed. She’d be ashamed of me, Sammy.”

Dean’s voice was small and almost childlike. Sam had the uncommon urge to protect his big brother.

“She wouldn’t, Dean. She loved us. She’d understand.”

Dean shook his head and looked away, pulling his knees in tight to his chest. Sam’s shoulders slumped. Their father’s words had hurt him, but they hadn’t cut him to the bone like they had Dean. He was sorry that John had found out that way, just walking in, and he was sorry John couldn’t see that what he and Dean had was good. Not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but then, what did he expect?

But Sam didn’t consider for a moment that their mother would be ashamed of them. He thought she would look at what their lives had become after her death and understand that this was the only way it could have happened. This small refuge of love and safety was all they had. In the barren and isolated existence the Winchesters had claimed for themselves, Sam and Dean had each other and that was good and pure and true no matter what the world and their father might think.

Sam wracked his brain, trying to think of a way to convince Dean that Mary Winchester wouldn’t have hated her sons. Mary . . . their mother. That sparked something in Sam’s mind and he suddenly had an idea of what might fix this for Dean. He got up and walked over to where his bag was sitting against the opposite wall. He rifled through the pockets until he found what he was looking for in the bottom of one of the smaller compartments. He pulled out the rosary and studied it for a moment. The gold crucifix gleamed dully in the middle of his palm and the string of intricately carved green beads connected by gold links draped over the back of his hand. Sam walked back over to kneel by his brother. Dean’s eyes darted to Sam’s hand and his brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of the rosary. For Dean, it was a purely utilitarian item, used to bless holy water to protect them from demons. Its uses in prayer were largely unfamiliar to him.

Sam didn’t answer the unspoken question in Dean’s eyes. He just held out his free hand to help Dean off the floor. Dean stared at it for a moment before finally clasping it and letting Sam pull him up and lead him over to the edge of the bed.

Dean wasn’t wearing anything but the unbuttoned pair of jeans he had managed to pull on before John sent him sprawling. Sam laid the rosary on the bed and reached out, intending to push them down. Dean stepped back abruptly.

“Sammy, no,” he said, his voice a whisper scraped over gravel.

Sam moved forward again.

“Just let me help you, Dean. Let me make it better,” he begged.

After a long pause, Dean nodded, although he still had the deer-in-headlights look in his eyes. Sam reached out again, grasping the rough denim. Dean’s body practically hummed with tension as he dragged the fabric down slowly over hips and thighs to the floor. Dean stepped obediently out of the jeans and Sam laid them aside.

Sam hadn’t done much better than Dean in the dressing department. In addition to jeans, he’d only managed a thin, white t-shirt. He undressed carefully, not making any sudden movements, as if he were trying to avoid spooking a wild animal.

When they were both naked, Sam picked up the rosary again, twining it through his fingers. Then he placed that hand on Dean’s shoulder and moved in so they were chest to chest. Dean didn’t back away, but Sam could feel the effort it took. He ducked his head slightly, bringing his lips within and inch of his brother’s.

“Ave Maria,” he whispered into Dean’s mouth. _Hail Mary._

Then he kissed him gently, nothing more than a warm touch of lips until he felt Dean tremble in acquiescence and answer the kiss. Sam brought his other hand up to cup the side of Dean’s face, licking at his lower lip until Dean granted him entrance. Sam sank into the warm, wet slide of it for a few moments, then pulled back a fraction and spoke again.

“Gratia plena.” _Full of grace._

Sam tugged Dean’s hand lightly and sat him down on the edge of the bed. He sat down beside and slightly facing him. He pushed lightly at his brother’s shoulder and Dean let himself be eased down onto his back.

“Dominus tecum.” _The Lord is with you._

Sam leaned over Dean, the rosary dangling from his hand. Even though he was following Sam’s lead, Dean’s eyes registered confusion. Sam leaned in and placed a reassuring kiss on his lips, then pulled back a bit. He lowered the rosary until the tip of the crucifix just barely touched the hollow of Dean’s throat. Then he dragged it down the center of his chest, stopping a couple of inches below the navel. Dean’s breath hitched just slightly as Sam continued his prayer.

“Benedicta tu in mulieribus.” _Blessed are you among women._

He pulled the rosary horizontally across Dean’s chest, grazing both nipples on the way. Now Dean was finally starting to respond to his brother’s careful ministrations. A slight smile lit Sam’s features as he noticed Dean’s cock twitch and start to harden.

“Et benedictus fructus ventris tui.” _And blessed is the fruit of your womb._

Sam shifted from Dean’s side, nudging his legs apart and kneeling between them. He followed the trail of the rosary with his mouth, from throat to navel and then lower. Dean was making little whimpering sounds in the back of his throat and squirming beneath Sam’s touch.

Sam cast his eyes up in silent supplication as his lips hovered inches from Dean’s half-hard cock. The heated look he received in return was more than enough permission. He closed the distance and took his brother in his mouth, licking and suckling.

Dean arched up beneath him making the most beautiful sounds. Sam took him in as far as he could, then pulled back until only the head was still in his mouth. He moved the hand still holding the rosary under his brother, pressing the beads against the smooth skin behind Dean’s balls at the same moment that he licked roughly at his slit. Dean cried out and thrust upward, but Sam already had his other hand splayed over Dean’s hips to restrain him.

Sam could tell that Dean was close, so he pulled off and crawled back up his body. Meeting Dean’s eyes, he reached blindly for the lube he knew was still on the bedside table. He kissed Dean deeply, like a benediction, then pulled back to kneel between his legs again.

Sam opened the bottle and wetted his fingers. He pressed just one against Dean’s opening, circling and massaging for a moment before pushing past the initial resistance and inside.

“Sancta Maria.” _Holy Mary._

Dean adjusted easily to the first, small invasion and Sam pushed another finger inside. He began stroking deeply and by the time he added the third, Dean was writhing beneath him, making wordless sounds of pleasure.

“Mater nostri.” _Our mother._

Sam pulled his fingers out and smoothed lube onto his own aching cock. He pushed Dean’s knees even further up and apart and pressed in against his entrance. He thrust carefully and slowly inside, sweat beading on his forehead as he worked to maintain control.

Once Sam was buried to the hilt, he grasped Dean’s shoulders and pulled him upward. Still inside his brother, he shifted them both until Dean was cradled in his lap, their chests pressed together and Dean’s cock straining between them.

Sam let the rosary unwind from his hand and carefully lowered it over both his neck and Dean’s, binding them together.

“Ora pro nobis, liberi tui.” _Pray for us, your children._

Dean’s fingers gripped Sam’s shoulders hard enough to bruise as he lifted and lowered himself on Sam’s cock. Sam reached in to stroke Dean along with the rhythm his brother was setting. They moved together, straining towards the same goal, their foreheads resting against each other, kept close by the restraint of the rosary. Sam spoke one last time, his voice labored.

“Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.” _Now and at the hour of our death._

In another moment, they were both coming. Sam filled Dean as Dean spurted up between them, covering both their chests with come. They collapsed against the mattress, still face to face as Sam slipped out of Dean. They kissed messily, still breathing hard.

Sam looked into Dean’s eyes and saw that the pain and self-hatred had cleared, for now at least. He hoped Dean understood what he had been trying to give him. Absolution.

Sam threw his leg over Dean’s hip and pulled him close. As they drifted into sleep, still joined by the beads of the rosary, he mumbled into Dean’s neck, “Amen.”


End file.
